"Land ho! Land ho! There she is, friends, the jewel of the Moonsea. New Phlan, straight ahead!"
"Come on, boys, let's show those blowhard Hillsfarians how you make landfall!"
"Aye!"
The crew of the passenger ship, "The Northwind", scramble with an enthusiastic fervor as she finishes her week-long journey across the Moonsea. Hard working, stubborn but hospitable, the sheer energy radiating from these long-suffering shipmasters of New Phlan is downright infectious. Even with the town just barely in view to the naked eye, the activity within the town can be heard. Though small in comparison to the other great ports of the Moonsea, the citizens are making up for their small number with the drive that only comes with a heart full of hope.
Packed onto the ship and waiting on the deck are dozens of confident faces. So desperate is New Phlan to expand and recapture its lost legacy that a special rate was given to any brave souls willing to become part of the great expedition into the wilds surrounding the old outer walls, attracting mercenaries, scholars, explorers and would-be treasure hunters from all over. There are some legitimate merchants on board going about their usual business, but by and large the travelers have their gaze fixed on the haze beyond the city where the Dragonspine mountains loom, as if they can practically see their future fortune waiting for them there. Boastful murmurings and wild rumors are being exchanged in a low rumble, and as the ship nears the docks, the captain appears before the crowd. He's a round, burly frigate of a man, as if someone stretched a dwarf to human size with a beard and voice to match.
"Right then! This is the fourth time I've given this speech so hopefully I can make it through this time without needing a drink halfway in. You lot are going to have to put up with an earful of chatter so I'll give y'all the short version. All those of you who are here to join the expedition will be separated into groups of four to six and assigned an outpost that will serve as your base camp. While you are undoubtedly here for your own gains, this IS a council-funded expedition, so if you want the perks, you'd best play along. Your basic needs will be taken care of while you explore and report your discoveries to a council-appointed representative that will be assigned to your group to be sure your findings are accurate and legitimate. Try not to step on them. They're fragile."
The captain's attempt at humor gets a few dry chuckles.
"This is going to entail a lot of signing papers and giving official statements and boring rot that will make your mind try to escape out your ears, but bear with it because in exchange you win the legal right to salvage any private buildings you find that are not part of the old city structures. You find a private home out there, and anything that's inside is yours. Relics, heirlooms, valuables, the whole lot. Move in, if you want to. Nobody's lived out there in decades. Your representative will fill you in on what needs to be reported and what you can keep, so, there's another reason to keep them alive, if you can."
The captain clears his throat and notices that the ship is just about to the dock.
"Right then! So! Mingle about, get to know your neighbors. A city official will be by shortly to record your groups... and welcome to New Phlan!"
And with that, the captain shuffles off to the helm and directs the boat to its port as the passengers begin to chat among themselves and a particular four are all but squashed together while the crowd waits to be allowed onto the docks.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM, professional illustrator and comic artist, suffering from severe spinal stenosis, married, middle aged, and nerdy.
Krinix eyes the other passengers nervously. It's been many years since he had to interact socially with anyone but his mentor, so he prefers not to speak. Sunlight glints on the coppery scales that serve as his skin, but he draws his robes about him, not wishing to display his draconic nature too openly. He's not sure how "his kind" will be received in the city. He hopes to get on an expedition immediately so that he doesn't have to find out. Once he's out there, perhaps he'll be able to find some answers to the questions that dog his dreams...
Among the unusual menagerie of souls crammed aboard the Northwind is a person of average human height but distinguished by angular, sallow features and pale green skin. He was clearly a gith - recognizable to anyone familiar with the Astral Plane. His clothes are functional, but weathered. To a decent tailor, the details of his garb would further indicate he has travelled from quite a far place to be here - the trousers are a deep black fabric, almost canvas but not quite. His white tunic is a little too loose, the black vest over it embroidered in an abstract gold pattern. His cloak is unfastened, barely holding onto his shoulders, revealing a thick black tome at his side - the book itself is only adorned with the image of a red dragon. The dragon seems to shimmer and move ever-so-slightly as it is observed.
The irony of his situation does not escape Qiran. Here he was, sailing a strange sea, preparing to collect treasure and glory. This was a boat full of raiders. The life of Men is not that unlike ours. He had listened politely to the captain's opening speech, and felt confident in his decision. This trip, despite the discount, had lessened his coinpurse. . . but there was so much potential in New Phlan.
He turns away from the coast, to the three other individuals in his proximity. Two dragonkin and a giantkin. Unusual, but perhaps that is what I need in this endeavor.
"Qiran,"he abruptly begins, offering his hand to each of the travelers in turn. His accent and cadence are unusual - he certainly did not learn common from a native speaker. "That is what I am called. Why are you each on this journey?"
Faerieth leans over the side of the ship, trying her hardest not to vomit. She kept her thoughts to herself, but privately she was thinking, "Why did it have to be a boat?"
She turns her focus to the sea below her, speaking to the critters that swam in them. Really, it was a one sided conversation, but it helped settle her stomach.
When the Gith approaches her, she spends a few moments thinking of the name the people at the shipyard had given her, "Faerieth," she says, before looking out over the ocean to the shore, "strange omems... the trees are crying out... must find the answers... protect Home..."
(Apologies for the delayed post - I've had a busy morning.)
Standing out - and above - the many passengers aboard The Northwind is a muscular, silvery-blue Dragonborn, tall even by Dragonkin standards. Barely avoiding scraping her head on the thankfully tall interior of the passenger ship, he has her bulging arms crossed, an expression of impassivity on her face. Travelers more keen on reading the demeanor of others can recognize a tinge of sourness in her otherwise unyielding expression - Chroma despises the rabble that seeks treasure and gold, and following that motive, her accessories are similarly ample. She's wearing no armor whatsoever, and a simple array of sashes around her chest and waist allows her to remain covered without restricting movement or breathing room. Silver Dragonborn love the cold, and adjusting to the stuffy interior of the ship left the Dragonborn uncomfortable. Unlike the other wayfarers aboard the ship, she's carrying no weapons whatsoever, but her intimidating presence is enough to make others wary of her presence. She wasn't sure if the civilians of Phlan would take kindly to a Dragonborn, but she would certainly question if anyone was brave - or sane - enough to approach her about it.
Despite her large appearance, she appears to be deftly riding the rocking of the vessel, casually adjusting her footing with every sway. She calmly listens to the captain's speech, more interested in surveying the mix of greedy and hopeful individuals in the room. She's happy to see solid ground, but it seems fate has thrown other issues in her way. She turns to the Gith and accepts his hand, her own being surprisingly dexterous and light, given the size. "It's a pleasure, Qiran. Call me Chroma, and why any of us are here means little to me compared to what we do here," she calmly replies, voice deep and scratchy, but somehow kind.
She looks over to her other nearby companions and is surprised to see another Dragonborn there. They were certainly rare. She notes his trepidation in speaking and his nervous demeanor, and will approach slightly more, speaking in the harsh scratches and consonants of Draconic.
For Krinix, or anyone else who happens to speak Draconic.
"Never did I expect to see another Dragonborn on the same vessel as I. You have a sense of concern around you. I assure you, I doubt anyone would try to harm a Dragonborn, let alone two. What's your name?"
Krinix Acknowledges Chroma’s outreach with a relieved smile. Here is some common ground to work with, and maybe being around another dragonborn would deflect some attention away from him.
He takes Chroma’s hand awkwardly, and in draconic he responds
Thank you. My name is Krinix. Forgive me, I am out of my element. It is good to see another dragonborn.
He then realizes that Qiran had also offered a similar gesture. Turning to him, Krinix takes his hand as well and says, still in draconic
Well met, Qiran. My name is Krinix. I am here to help the city of New Phlan in whatever way I can.
Shaking the hands of the dragonborn in turn, he smiles an unusual but genuine smile. There was potential here. Chroma, the silver, possessed a graceful strength that rivaled his own. She felt like a zerth. Krinix, the silver, was not as physically gifted, but there was something beneath his nervous demeanour. If Chroma was his equal in body, Krinix was his equal in mind. They are formidable. As formidable as I can hope for without bringing in another gith. Makes sense. They are dragon-touched after all.
Then there was the seasick firbolg. Faerieth. Her height had been what had first caught Qiran's eye but now he was unsure. Ship-weakness is one thing, but what is this rambling? Trees are just trees, and Phlan will need lumber to rebuild and expand. But who else was there? One of the humans who had failed the city already? No, it was time for outside talent.
He listens to the dragonkin acknowledge each other before speaking, waiting politely for a break in the conversation.
"Well met, each of you. The captain, he said we were to create groupings of four, but I have come here alone. Perhaps we four oddities, we can work together?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Chroma smiles and nods her head, responding to Qiran. "I, myself, have no contacts in Phlan. You have been very kind. I would be happy to work with you, if not to just get my bearings on the place." Something seems to catch her eye in the corner. "Excuse me for a moment."
She wades through the crowd, again, surprisingly dexterous for her size. "I simply hope to keep peace and balance in this town. It is a pleasure to greet you. One second," she says to the Firbolg, but carries on to a huddle of three humans. She towers over them, crossing her arms. "Can I help you?" she asks, giving them each a placid stare.
Faerieth watches the Silver Dragonborn... Chroma... she'd have to remember that, as she approaches the men. "Staring is bad I suppose," she says to the others, "I suppose they never seen a Dragonborn before..."
Three humans standing nearby in the crowd, relatively close to the group of four which are near the guard rails on the starboard side, push forward past a few of their fellows. They're definitely of higher social standing than most of the other mercenaries, wearing extravagantly embossed tunics with patterning that would have taken an artisan weeks to finish, and they fit the three perfectly. Moreover, the three humans all look related, with similarly short-cropped blonde hair, well-barbered beards and a similar height and build. Ever since Chroma spoke, they've been at the back of her head and after noticing Krinix, their body language speaks volumes. They are offended by the pair of dragonborn being in their presence. Their eyes then fall on Faerieth, and finally on Qiran. They look as if they're witnessing a pig stye cleaning for the first time.
One of them mutters something which makes the other have to choke back laughter. The apparent leader of the trio nudges them before he faces Chroma.
"There's no problem. Just... curious." the human says, maintaining his aristocratic mannerisms until a mocking smile crosses his lips.
"Are you male or female? My brothers and I made a bet but even standing this close I just can't tell." he says before he reaches out to pat her on the chest while his brothers look on with feigned surprise.
As the man reaches his hand out to touch Chroma’s chest, she neatly intercepts, folds his arm behind his back, flips him around, and none too gently shoves him back to the other two, all without harming him one bit. Evidently, she has plenty of experience working with hand-to-hand altercations, and as she refolds her arms across her chest, she gives a disapproving snort. “For someone with such elaborate dress, you have an abhorrent manner of treating others. I will give you that chance to reflect on what I could have done, and I hope you learn to be polite. Now, let’s try that again,” she calmly says, extending a large, clawed hand to the members of the group. “My name is Chroma. It is my pleasure,” she states, with a genuine smile, “to meet you. I hope you treat me - and anyone else you happen to meet - with the same courtesy that I have shown you. I am female, by the way,” she adds, more than a little disgust in her voice and expression, “but I doubt it should matter for you.”
Dazed and surprised, the leader of the trio takes careful stock of what just transpired and glares at Chroma. At her outstretched hand, he spits on the deck by her feet. Apparently he lost the nerve to spit ON her, especially with the number of eyes now on the group; the sailors and the captain all staring daggers at the trio despite most of them being human as well.
"Filthy inhuman garbage." the man says and shoves his way through the crowd to get some distance between himself and the peculiar quartet.The gates on the bow of the ship open and the gangplank is lowered, landing with a hearty thunk onto the docks, and the trio rush to be the first off the ship.
The crowd all starts to file off the ship, and as the deck clears a bit, the captain himself approaches the four.
"Apologies for that, friends. I didn't quite see what happened or hear what was said, but I can bloody well guess. Those boys... they're not local. I hope that his stupidity doesn't colour your opinion of New Phlan." he says, taking off his hat as he addresses the four.
"Just avoid those three, if you can. They're.... well... you'll find out eventually, I'm sure." he adds, looking like he WANTS to say more, but doesn't.
The captain casts his eyes at Faerieth and puts his hat back on.
"This old sea dog won't keep you any longer as that one's lookin' a wee green in the gills. While I would have loved to see that spoiled dandy picking up his teeth, you saved us a LOT of trouble by letting him walk away. For your restraint, madam dragonborn, might I suggest that when you speak to the council representative that you ask to speak to Jarvo. Just mention the North Wind. He'll take good care of you lot."
Qiran did not interfere or speak up as Chroma faced down the trio of aggressive humans. Peaceful resolution was not among his tools, and slaughtering three men on a crowded boat would not be a good way to start his machinations in New Phlan. Luckily, they didn't escalate their aggression, and the four of them were left behind with a thinning deck - and the captain.
So that's how it is. Smallminded xenophobic fools protected by an old faction. Qiran struggles to avoid visibly spitting in disgust. Truly, some things were the same everywhere. He resolves to speak with the captain later, but to drop the subject for now.
"Yes, captain, the representative. Where will they be? Follow the crowd, yes?"
Seeing Faerith start to move towards the gate, he offers a shoulder for support.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
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"Land ho! Land ho! There she is, friends, the jewel of the Moonsea. New Phlan, straight ahead!"
"Come on, boys, let's show those blowhard Hillsfarians how you make landfall!"
"Aye!"
The crew of the passenger ship, "The Northwind", scramble with an enthusiastic fervor as she finishes her week-long journey across the Moonsea. Hard working, stubborn but hospitable, the sheer energy radiating from these long-suffering shipmasters of New Phlan is downright infectious. Even with the town just barely in view to the naked eye, the activity within the town can be heard. Though small in comparison to the other great ports of the Moonsea, the citizens are making up for their small number with the drive that only comes with a heart full of hope.
Packed onto the ship and waiting on the deck are dozens of confident faces. So desperate is New Phlan to expand and recapture its lost legacy that a special rate was given to any brave souls willing to become part of the great expedition into the wilds surrounding the old outer walls, attracting mercenaries, scholars, explorers and would-be treasure hunters from all over. There are some legitimate merchants on board going about their usual business, but by and large the travelers have their gaze fixed on the haze beyond the city where the Dragonspine mountains loom, as if they can practically see their future fortune waiting for them there. Boastful murmurings and wild rumors are being exchanged in a low rumble, and as the ship nears the docks, the captain appears before the crowd. He's a round, burly frigate of a man, as if someone stretched a dwarf to human size with a beard and voice to match.
"Right then! This is the fourth time I've given this speech so hopefully I can make it through this time without needing a drink halfway in. You lot are going to have to put up with an earful of chatter so I'll give y'all the short version. All those of you who are here to join the expedition will be separated into groups of four to six and assigned an outpost that will serve as your base camp. While you are undoubtedly here for your own gains, this IS a council-funded expedition, so if you want the perks, you'd best play along. Your basic needs will be taken care of while you explore and report your discoveries to a council-appointed representative that will be assigned to your group to be sure your findings are accurate and legitimate. Try not to step on them. They're fragile."
The captain's attempt at humor gets a few dry chuckles.
"This is going to entail a lot of signing papers and giving official statements and boring rot that will make your mind try to escape out your ears, but bear with it because in exchange you win the legal right to salvage any private buildings you find that are not part of the old city structures. You find a private home out there, and anything that's inside is yours. Relics, heirlooms, valuables, the whole lot. Move in, if you want to. Nobody's lived out there in decades. Your representative will fill you in on what needs to be reported and what you can keep, so, there's another reason to keep them alive, if you can."
The captain clears his throat and notices that the ship is just about to the dock.
"Right then! So! Mingle about, get to know your neighbors. A city official will be by shortly to record your groups... and welcome to New Phlan!"
And with that, the captain shuffles off to the helm and directs the boat to its port as the passengers begin to chat among themselves and a particular four are all but squashed together while the crowd waits to be allowed onto the docks.
DM, professional illustrator and comic artist, suffering from severe spinal stenosis, married, middle aged, and nerdy.
Krinix eyes the other passengers nervously. It's been many years since he had to interact socially with anyone but his mentor, so he prefers not to speak. Sunlight glints on the coppery scales that serve as his skin, but he draws his robes about him, not wishing to display his draconic nature too openly. He's not sure how "his kind" will be received in the city. He hopes to get on an expedition immediately so that he doesn't have to find out. Once he's out there, perhaps he'll be able to find some answers to the questions that dog his dreams...
Among the unusual menagerie of souls crammed aboard the Northwind is a person of average human height but distinguished by angular, sallow features and pale green skin. He was clearly a gith - recognizable to anyone familiar with the Astral Plane. His clothes are functional, but weathered. To a decent tailor, the details of his garb would further indicate he has travelled from quite a far place to be here - the trousers are a deep black fabric, almost canvas but not quite. His white tunic is a little too loose, the black vest over it embroidered in an abstract gold pattern. His cloak is unfastened, barely holding onto his shoulders, revealing a thick black tome at his side - the book itself is only adorned with the image of a red dragon. The dragon seems to shimmer and move ever-so-slightly as it is observed.
The irony of his situation does not escape Qiran. Here he was, sailing a strange sea, preparing to collect treasure and glory. This was a boat full of raiders. The life of Men is not that unlike ours. He had listened politely to the captain's opening speech, and felt confident in his decision. This trip, despite the discount, had lessened his coinpurse. . . but there was so much potential in New Phlan.
He turns away from the coast, to the three other individuals in his proximity. Two dragonkin and a giantkin. Unusual, but perhaps that is what I need in this endeavor.
"Qiran," he abruptly begins, offering his hand to each of the travelers in turn. His accent and cadence are unusual - he certainly did not learn common from a native speaker. "That is what I am called. Why are you each on this journey?"
((OOC: Here's a link to his sheet if anyone's curious: https://ddb.ac/characters/38279559/GeKPCB. I generally don't try to hide things from the party.))
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Faerieth leans over the side of the ship, trying her hardest not to vomit. She kept her thoughts to herself, but privately she was thinking, "Why did it have to be a boat?"
She turns her focus to the sea below her, speaking to the critters that swam in them. Really, it was a one sided conversation, but it helped settle her stomach.
When the Gith approaches her, she spends a few moments thinking of the name the people at the shipyard had given her, "Faerieth," she says, before looking out over the ocean to the shore, "strange omems... the trees are crying out... must find the answers... protect Home..."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
(Apologies for the delayed post - I've had a busy morning.)
Standing out - and above - the many passengers aboard The Northwind is a muscular, silvery-blue Dragonborn, tall even by Dragonkin standards. Barely avoiding scraping her head on the thankfully tall interior of the passenger ship, he has her bulging arms crossed, an expression of impassivity on her face. Travelers more keen on reading the demeanor of others can recognize a tinge of sourness in her otherwise unyielding expression - Chroma despises the rabble that seeks treasure and gold, and following that motive, her accessories are similarly ample. She's wearing no armor whatsoever, and a simple array of sashes around her chest and waist allows her to remain covered without restricting movement or breathing room. Silver Dragonborn love the cold, and adjusting to the stuffy interior of the ship left the Dragonborn uncomfortable. Unlike the other wayfarers aboard the ship, she's carrying no weapons whatsoever, but her intimidating presence is enough to make others wary of her presence. She wasn't sure if the civilians of Phlan would take kindly to a Dragonborn, but she would certainly question if anyone was brave - or sane - enough to approach her about it.
Despite her large appearance, she appears to be deftly riding the rocking of the vessel, casually adjusting her footing with every sway. She calmly listens to the captain's speech, more interested in surveying the mix of greedy and hopeful individuals in the room. She's happy to see solid ground, but it seems fate has thrown other issues in her way. She turns to the Gith and accepts his hand, her own being surprisingly dexterous and light, given the size. "It's a pleasure, Qiran. Call me Chroma, and why any of us are here means little to me compared to what we do here," she calmly replies, voice deep and scratchy, but somehow kind.
She looks over to her other nearby companions and is surprised to see another Dragonborn there. They were certainly rare. She notes his trepidation in speaking and his nervous demeanor, and will approach slightly more, speaking in the harsh scratches and consonants of Draconic.
For Krinix, or anyone else who happens to speak Draconic.
"Never did I expect to see another Dragonborn on the same vessel as I. You have a sense of concern around you. I assure you, I doubt anyone would try to harm a Dragonborn, let alone two. What's your name?"
Krinix Acknowledges Chroma’s outreach with a relieved smile. Here is some common ground to work with, and maybe being around another dragonborn would deflect some attention away from him.
He takes Chroma’s hand awkwardly, and in draconic he responds
Thank you. My name is Krinix. Forgive me, I am out of my element. It is good to see another dragonborn.
He then realizes that Qiran had also offered a similar gesture. Turning to him, Krinix takes his hand as well and says, still in draconic
Well met, Qiran. My name is Krinix. I am here to help the city of New Phlan in whatever way I can.
Shaking the hands of the dragonborn in turn, he smiles an unusual but genuine smile. There was potential here. Chroma, the silver, possessed a graceful strength that rivaled his own. She felt like a zerth. Krinix, the silver, was not as physically gifted, but there was something beneath his nervous demeanour. If Chroma was his equal in body, Krinix was his equal in mind. They are formidable. As formidable as I can hope for without bringing in another gith. Makes sense. They are dragon-touched after all.
Then there was the seasick firbolg. Faerieth. Her height had been what had first caught Qiran's eye but now he was unsure. Ship-weakness is one thing, but what is this rambling? Trees are just trees, and Phlan will need lumber to rebuild and expand. But who else was there? One of the humans who had failed the city already? No, it was time for outside talent.
He listens to the dragonkin acknowledge each other before speaking, waiting politely for a break in the conversation.
"Well met, each of you. The captain, he said we were to create groupings of four, but I have come here alone. Perhaps we four oddities, we can work together?"
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
(If you saw my previous post, disregard it. I jumped the gun a bit.)
DM, professional illustrator and comic artist, suffering from severe spinal stenosis, married, middle aged, and nerdy.
"Hmm?" Faerieth looks around the ship at all the other people, then back at the group, "what do you intend to do here?"
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Chroma smiles and nods her head, responding to Qiran. "I, myself, have no contacts in Phlan. You have been very kind. I would be happy to work with you, if not to just get my bearings on the place." Something seems to catch her eye in the corner. "Excuse me for a moment."
She wades through the crowd, again, surprisingly dexterous for her size. "I simply hope to keep peace and balance in this town. It is a pleasure to greet you. One second," she says to the Firbolg, but carries on to a huddle of three humans. She towers over them, crossing her arms. "Can I help you?" she asks, giving them each a placid stare.
Faerieth watches the Silver Dragonborn... Chroma... she'd have to remember that, as she approaches the men. "Staring is bad I suppose," she says to the others, "I suppose they never seen a Dragonborn before..."
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
Krinix says,
"Yes, apparently forming a team is necessary, in which case I'd be happy to join with you..."
His voice trails off as he watches Chroma move away.
Three humans standing nearby in the crowd, relatively close to the group of four which are near the guard rails on the starboard side, push forward past a few of their fellows. They're definitely of higher social standing than most of the other mercenaries, wearing extravagantly embossed tunics with patterning that would have taken an artisan weeks to finish, and they fit the three perfectly. Moreover, the three humans all look related, with similarly short-cropped blonde hair, well-barbered beards and a similar height and build. Ever since Chroma spoke, they've been at the back of her head and after noticing Krinix, their body language speaks volumes. They are offended by the pair of dragonborn being in their presence. Their eyes then fall on Faerieth, and finally on Qiran. They look as if they're witnessing a pig stye cleaning for the first time.
One of them mutters something which makes the other have to choke back laughter. The apparent leader of the trio nudges them before he faces Chroma.
"There's no problem. Just... curious." the human says, maintaining his aristocratic mannerisms until a mocking smile crosses his lips.
"Are you male or female? My brothers and I made a bet but even standing this close I just can't tell." he says before he reaches out to pat her on the chest while his brothers look on with feigned surprise.
DM, professional illustrator and comic artist, suffering from severe spinal stenosis, married, middle aged, and nerdy.
Krinix turns back to Faerieth and Qiran, oblivious to the nature of the interaction that Chroma is having.
"She seems a friendly type,"
he muses to himself. He hopes she will want to stay in his group. Something she said tickles his mind and he asks the others,
"Do we need contacts in the city? I don't have any, either..."
"I'm sure the animals and plants will be willing to help us," Faerieth says.
Elra Skylash - Human Cleric | Vanzaren Tanidoni - Half Elf Wizard
Mindartis Liadon - Eladrin Barbarian | Naivara Siannodel - Half Elf Ranger
Arrila Evenwood - Half Elf Paladin | Callaphe of Setessa - Human Rogue
Katernin Nemetsk - Aasimar Cleric | Melody - Tiefling Bard
As the man reaches his hand out to touch Chroma’s chest, she neatly intercepts, folds his arm behind his back, flips him around, and none too gently shoves him back to the other two, all without harming him one bit. Evidently, she has plenty of experience working with hand-to-hand altercations, and as she refolds her arms across her chest, she gives a disapproving snort. “For someone with such elaborate dress, you have an abhorrent manner of treating others. I will give you that chance to reflect on what I could have done, and I hope you learn to be polite. Now, let’s try that again,” she calmly says, extending a large, clawed hand to the members of the group. “My name is Chroma. It is my pleasure,” she states, with a genuine smile, “to meet you. I hope you treat me - and anyone else you happen to meet - with the same courtesy that I have shown you. I am female, by the way,” she adds, more than a little disgust in her voice and expression, “but I doubt it should matter for you.”
((OOC: Tables? Seats? Are we off the ferry?))
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
(OOC: Whoops, I misread some part. Post has been edited accordingly. For some reason I was under the impression the three were seated.)
Dazed and surprised, the leader of the trio takes careful stock of what just transpired and glares at Chroma. At her outstretched hand, he spits on the deck by her feet. Apparently he lost the nerve to spit ON her, especially with the number of eyes now on the group; the sailors and the captain all staring daggers at the trio despite most of them being human as well.
"Filthy inhuman garbage." the man says and shoves his way through the crowd to get some distance between himself and the peculiar quartet.The gates on the bow of the ship open and the gangplank is lowered, landing with a hearty thunk onto the docks, and the trio rush to be the first off the ship.
The crowd all starts to file off the ship, and as the deck clears a bit, the captain himself approaches the four.
"Apologies for that, friends. I didn't quite see what happened or hear what was said, but I can bloody well guess. Those boys... they're not local. I hope that his stupidity doesn't colour your opinion of New Phlan." he says, taking off his hat as he addresses the four.
"Just avoid those three, if you can. They're.... well... you'll find out eventually, I'm sure." he adds, looking like he WANTS to say more, but doesn't.
The captain casts his eyes at Faerieth and puts his hat back on.
"This old sea dog won't keep you any longer as that one's lookin' a wee green in the gills. While I would have loved to see that spoiled dandy picking up his teeth, you saved us a LOT of trouble by letting him walk away. For your restraint, madam dragonborn, might I suggest that when you speak to the council representative that you ask to speak to Jarvo. Just mention the North Wind. He'll take good care of you lot."
DM, professional illustrator and comic artist, suffering from severe spinal stenosis, married, middle aged, and nerdy.
Qiran did not interfere or speak up as Chroma faced down the trio of aggressive humans. Peaceful resolution was not among his tools, and slaughtering three men on a crowded boat would not be a good way to start his machinations in New Phlan. Luckily, they didn't escalate their aggression, and the four of them were left behind with a thinning deck - and the captain.
So that's how it is. Smallminded xenophobic fools protected by an old faction. Qiran struggles to avoid visibly spitting in disgust. Truly, some things were the same everywhere. He resolves to speak with the captain later, but to drop the subject for now.
"Yes, captain, the representative. Where will they be? Follow the crowd, yes?"
Seeing Faerith start to move towards the gate, he offers a shoulder for support.
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.